


A Kiss from the Darkness

by orphan_account



Series: Phantom Thief [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clever!John, First Love, First Meetings, M/M, PhantomThief!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. John Watson the youngest trauma surgeon to ever graduate with perfect marks is also the world's budding thief Nero. One night while stealing the painting The Ship of Fools from the Louvre he comes across , en route, the young and ethereal beauty of 18 years old Sherlock Holmes on the roof and stole the younger man's (hopefully) first kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss from the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> told from John's perspective the day after.
> 
> Betaed by the very kind and patient earlyable :)

As a Gentleman Thief known to the world as Nero there is one memory of a person, whose name I'll probably never know, that I keep near my heart.

On the night in which I had set my eyes on the rather large painting of The Ship of Fools from the Louvre I met the most breath-taking man I have ever seen, his beauty (I know it is strange to call a man beautiful but perhaps I may be forgiven for handsome does not fit it so) is ethereal as if he is an angel among the humans.

This fascination of mine towards the man (or perhaps boy as the person in question not only screams intelligence form his whole being but a certain child-like quality as well) made me stall for a while on the roof though I knew that in 5 minutes the Police and Gendarmerie would realize that I am no longer in front of them.

I had only noticed this being upon hearing the almost inaudible gasp from behind me upon my landing on the roof of an, admittedly large, house near the tower. I turned and to my delight and surprise a young man, I think this is the most fitting, whose beauty is ethereal sat behind me, his thin body leaning on the cold stone on the roof's ledge, his jet black mop of curls framing his porcelain face with high cheek bones that was slightly rosy due to the cold air I allow myself a curious smile.

" _What's a pretty thing like you doing here unguarded?_ " I asked teasingly in perfect French for I could only wonder at what kind of parents would allow their beautiful son unguarded on the roof.

I was merely on the way to steal my original target (the painting) and come upon this beautiful young man I would have chosen him as my target leaving the police who would wait all night long for a thief that would never come but alas I had come upon the young man after the theft. The young man whom I shall call  _etoile_  for his beauty shines in the night sky the most merely frowned at me though pouted seemed to be the right word now that I think of it.

 

If I had caught a glimpse of him on my way to steal the painting, as my original plan dictated, then I would have chosen to make him my target and leave the police waiting all night long for a thief that would never come. But, alas, I had come across the young man after the theft. The man (whom I shall call _etoile_ for his beauty shines the most in the night sky . merely frowned at me; although in hindsight pout seems the most appropriate word for his expression.

But at that moment I merely chuckled and tried to make him speak to me - if only to put a voice to the beautiful face I had the fortune of seeing. His words reached my ears.

" _For a thief that is being hunted by both the Gendarme and Police you seem so lax._ " He said in his dulcet voice that pleases my ears and makes me smile even more. " _Worry not, my dear,_ " and I walked towards him as he stubbed out his cigarette on the ledge and I took his hand, holding it gently and gracefully as I brought it to my lips, to kiss his reddened knuckles. I took note of his surprised and reddened cheeks that gave him the ghost of a smile that was undoubtedly enchanting.

" _For no one can ever catch the darkness._ " I said and with a breathlessness he said the name I am known to the world as, " _Nero_."

 

I wonder if he is aware of the fact that he is smiling like a child at Christmastime and in the corner of my mind it made me wonder: if my true name passed those luscious lips, would he say it with disdain or perhaps awe and, if I dare say so, love?

 

But time was running out and I since I could not steal this young man at the time and leave in his place the expensive painting, I stole what I could.  I stole his (hopefully) first kiss and with practiced skill, efficiently left my spare calling card in his trousers’ back pocket.

The kiss, though sweet and chaste, felt to me like eternity. I fancy thinking that on that night I had also left my heart with him for I am sure that never would I ever meet a young man like him that rivals the stars.

One day I hope that I may meet this young man once more, if only to tell him of my feelings as Nero and, if fate permits, as John H. Watson.

October 20, 2008

* * *

 

A few months after this incident on the roof, John would at times, in the safety of his flat, twirl his calling card and think of the young man he kissed on that rooftop in Paris and the promise to himself that he would one day search for the young man and steal him and everything that is his.

And that day would be the last of Nero.


End file.
